


If You Don't Want Me To Destroy You

by IrisParry



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, this isn't crack you cowards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15876045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisParry/pseuds/IrisParry
Summary: Poe Dameron receives a cryptic communication in the middle of the night, and is drawn into a web of intrigue and danger by a mysterious redhead. Very broadly speaking.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote some of this then forgot about it, then started posting it in screengrabs and impulsively continuing it on twitter over a few nights. Then I was very tired and didn't do anything on it for about a week, until wrote the final 2k tonight in a perspective I've never tried before. I like to think the chaotic approach is fitting. Thanks to cosleia and glass_oceans for looking over the last bit, and to the twitter folks for yelling at me about the earlier bits. The title is a Super Furry Animals song that I put on to decompress after working on a fic that is quite different in tone, before bashing out some of this.

_Commander. Good evening._

 

_Or is it Captain? Lieutenant, even, by now?_

 

excuse me?

 

_Private? Prisoner?_

 

who is this

 

_A friend._

 

all my friends could just yell down the hall instead of messing with me on comm, try again

 

_We’ve done plenty of the things friends do. You’ve visited my home. We’ve shared some light-hearted mockery._

 

when i visited your home

 

i wouldn’t happen to have been strapped to a chair, would I?

 

_Would that narrow it down for you?_

 

ha ha

 

_I’m not acquainted with how good Republican boys spend their leisure time._

 

answer the question, smartass

 

_You were. But my roommate enquired as to your comfort, did he not?_

 

holy shit

 

_You know me now, then?_

 

what is this?? what do you want?

 

_An end to this conflict._

 

you got a funny way of showing it asshole

 

_To explore our common ground, then._

 

you have got to be fucking kidding me

 

_Do I strike you as a man who likes to joke, Private?_

 

you ARE a joke

 

and i did not get busted down to private your intel is bullshit

 

_Ah. That would truly have been a waste of a man of your ambition and vision._

 

… sure buddy?

 

_You took action when you thought your leaders were steering you in the wrong direction. I admire that._

 

_I can relate to that._

 

don’t even bother claiming it was you did the big boss in, i already got the full story

 

from a reliable source

 

_Let us just say that I did not mourn his passing._

 

_And that his passing did not quell my concerns about my organisation’s future._

 

is that so

 

_It is. But I must go. We must speak further. You can reach me on this channel - it is secure, but we should still exercise caution._

 

_You can call me … Red Peril_

 

espionage and subterfuge are things you usually have minions take care of, aren’t they gingermuffin?

  
  


_***_

  
  


morning sunshine

 

wanna cut the foreplay today? I don’t have time for this cloak and dagger crap.

 

_You’re a straightforward man. I appreciate that._

 

flattery will get you precisely nowhere

 

_Do I need to spell it out? I think we have the leadership and vision to set things right here!_

 

aw, muffin. are you saying you want me to be the boss of you?

 

_Certainly not._

 

don’t be shy

 

_I am SAYING that I think our interests converge. People would have to hold their noses to an extent, of course. But beggars can’t be choosers._

 

can they be executed for war crimes?

 

_Cross that bridge when we come to it._

 

huh. well, i think i hear what you’re saying  

 

_You don’t have to decide this minute. But think of what I could offer._

 

oh, I am. I’ve seen those naughty holos.

 

_Those parody holos are disrespectful and disgusting and their distribution is prohibited and the actor does not even look like_

 

_Wait, how do you even_

 

_Those are floating around Republic space now?_

 

i’m a resourceful man, pumpkin. it’s why you like me.

 

i’m gonna think about how this might work, okay? you’re asking a lot of me, you know that.

 

_I do. But I also know I can make it worth your while._

 

okay are you doing what you do in the holo after you deliver that line because that’s a little forward for a second date

 

_Do you want this or not?_

 

you’re really not helping

 

_Perhaps you could get back to me when you are willing to seriously consider matters of galactic security, Private Pornographer._

 

how long did it take you to come up with that

 

i mean, zing

 

what a comeback

 

i’m destroyed

 

get me some ice for this burn

 

are you still there peaches?

 

come back i think i love you

 

***

 

hey, look.

 

_I hope you’ve matured considerably since our last exchange._

 

wow, quick reply, do you have a special alert tone for me or something

 

_That’s none of your concern. The urgency of the matters we discuss only increases._

 

feeling the heat huh?

 

_I am well accustomed to the pressures of a high-level role, thank you, but my working environment has been quite unsettled of late, as I’m sure you can imagine._

 

aw poor you did someone bomb the shit out of it and kill a bunch of your friends??

 

_Was that sarcasm? Because yes, actually, someone did._

 

oh boy we are not getting into this right now. look. you’re really serious about … the thing, right?

 

_Absolutely._

 

_Though I would need some … assurances._

 

ohhh here we go

 

_You’re not the only one taking a tremendous risk here! We both have a lot to lose. Both of us are under a lot of scrutiny at the best of times._

 

I guess. buddy of mine used to say i got the ‘poster boy blues’.

 

_Well, quite. It’s difficult enough to have a quiet drink, let alone personally conduct clandestine operations that could alter the fate of the galaxy._

 

yeah i don’t exactly want this in the holopages or someone’s autograph hunter site

 

_There are few who can understand the burden that comes with inspirational leadership._

 

okay let’s calm down and talk about your assurances

 

_Ah. Yes. Well._

 

cmon. don’t ask don’t get.

 

_It’s rather delicate._

 

you’re really testing me and my resolve not to joke about those holofilms again

 

peaches?

 

you still there??

 

not again

 

_Did you really have any information about my mother?_

 

oh.

 

oh boy.

 

_Please, I never knew what happened to her._

 

oh

 

_There was always talk of her defecting. It was no secret she and father never got along._

 

_They pretended but I always knew, I could feel the resentment._

 

buddy, have you been drinking?

 

_Hardly at all, and it’s none of your business if I have._

 

alright. well. I’m thinking I might start.

 

_Please._

 

I’ll see what I can scare up, okay? it’s not like they give me, yknow

 

everything. like, right then, yknow? in the middle of everything.

 

_Of course. I’m sorry. It was_

 

_Silly of me._

 

no, no, totally legit i can see why you would ask like this is clearly a very sensitive personal subject and not anything to

 

take lightly.

 

_I should go._

 

okay you make sure to drink some water

 

I’ll check in tomorrow with that deal-sealing important intel that we definitely have

 

bye

 

_*_

 

_Good evening._

 

hey

 

I, uh, i see you got the files I sent.

 

_Yes. You are a man of your word._

 

absolutely i am

 

_It’s difficult to know what to make of it after all this time. In a sense I hardly knew her._

 

kinda the same with my mom. she was away a lot, what with the war against your asshole predecessors.

 

_I know. Green Squadron. Battle of Endor. They were the scourge of the galaxy’s rightful rulers._

 

damn straight

 

wait

 

hey, wait, do you have a file on me?

 

_Anyway, now that we’ve established some trust I think we can move things forward?_

 

‘established trust’?? send me my file

 

_I fear the section on your vanity alone might overload your servers._

 

alright you keep it for your private amusement. every story you’ve heard is true. every photograph is a pale imitation.

 

_Even the Resistance swimsuit calendars?_

 

ESPECIALLY the Resistance swimsuit calendars.

 

_I think we should meet in person._

 

I’m sure you do, peaches. those calendars were a very limited run, must’ve worked hard to get your grubby hands on ‘em

 

_I meant for security reasons. It’s dangerous to keep leaving a trace like this. And as matters progress, we need to avoid the details falling into the wrong hands._

 

you’re getting better at this spy shit, red peril. yeah, i think you might be right.

 

_Neutral ground is difficult to come by these days, but I think I’ve identified a suitable location. I’m sending the details through. We can confirm the final details there, and … move on to the next stage._

 

not getting cold feet, are you?

 

_Don’t worry about me._

 

it’s sorta been my job for quite a while now. tough habit to break.

 

_There’ll be plenty of other worries to focus on once this is done, I can assure you._

 

gonna have to get used to worrying about you in whole new ways huh

 

_I can get away in 9 days’ time. That will surely be enough for, well. You know._

 

_Goodbyes, and suchlike._

 

better not. not in any way they’ll know it at the time.

 

_I understand._

 

it’s tough, but big picture, right? fate of the galaxy and all that?

 

_Absolutely._

 

_You won’t regret this._

 

hope not. I’ll be at your crummy cantina on time. drinks are on you.


	2. Chapter 2

Poe was early.

He’d managed to manoeuvre a scouting run with the right timing, carefully pitched as just tricky enough to need him personally but not out-and-out dangerous. In reality it was a piece of cake - and it had a return leg that passed by the backwater planet from the message’s coordinates. Nobody was expecting him back too soon, and nobody would think much of it if they checked on him and saw he’d stopped off for a drink. It would be a while before they started to worry. 

And they would more than worry, if they knew what he was really doing. Poe sank the last of a beer that was not his first, and the Twi’lek dude behind the bar rolled his eyes and told him,  _ alright honey, it’s your funeral _ , when he waved for another. There was a possibility, Poe was thinking, just a little one, that this was all a monumentally stupid idea.   

He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of a sweatier hand. The planet wasn’t desert but it felt like it was heading that way, arid and windy, and the seedy little bar had piles of sand banked up against the counter and the walls. The air tasted dusty and hot, and it didn’t seem like the kind of place some ghostly pale minimalist prick would pick to hang out. 

Maybe that was the point. Even with the plans they’d made, Poe himself still hardly expected to see General Armitage Hux walk through the hokey swinging saloon doors, out of the blazing sunshine. He snorted, picking at the label on the beer bottle. Hopefully  _ Red Peril _ would ditch the uniform at least. 

If he even had any other clothes. Far as Poe could tell - from Resistance intel, First Order propaganda and secret late-night messages that made him feel like he was having some sort of affair - uniform and regulations and, well, order, had been Hux’s entire life. It was ... kinda sad. Mom gone, dad a grade-A asshole even by Empire standards, and it didn’t even sound like his weird aunt Fay (Or was it Ray? That had been a  _ really _ late one.) was around much. Yet there he was in all the posters and the holos, bright-eyed, confident, all perfect cheekbones and determined jaw, looking like he was having a ball, like he was exactly where he wanted to be. Poe knew a bit about faking it, and had gotten the sense that proud, strong General Hux couldn’t keep it going much longer. 

Poe groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. What was he  _ doing? _ He left his face in his hands for a minute, trying to get his head straight in the blessed darkness. The bartender passed by and ruffled his hair. He was feeling  _ sorry _ for Hux - for  _ General  _ Hux, the architect of Starkiller, the dude whose picture they’d had pinned to a dartboard in the hangar on the  _ Echo. _

He’d thought it was a shame, though, even then, he remembered guiltily. He’d thought that if it wasn’t for the sneer, and the yelling, and basically everything about who he was and what he stood for, Hux might be kinda pretty.

Poe raised his head and beamed at the bartender, who was drying glasses and watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Could I get a shot of Old Kor Vellan with my next one?”

It was hard to keep hating someone that way, he mused, once they’d gotten kinda wasted and cried about their mom to you. Once they were real and messy and not just some shiny, airbrushed boogeyman. Hux had reached out. It didn’t make everything goddamn  _ okay _ , not by a long shot, but it had to mean something. 

Poe shook his head and downed the whiskey.  _ Some _ good would come of it. He knew it. He checked the time. Pretty much too late to chicken out anyway. Hux was definitely the kind of guy to be dead-on punctual, and had probably already landed. 

No, he was doing it. He was ordering another whiskey, then he was meeting General Armitage Hux in a dive bar and taking him home. 

As a defector. 

  
  


*

Hux was late.

Shore leave was hard to come by in the present climate, but it wasn’t as if the  _ Supreme Leader _ gave two shits about signing the General’s off anymore so Hux had just gone ahead and marked out the date. In front of his subordinates Hux had been making grave, cryptic comments that intimated he was actually departing on a top secret undertaking of some kind, ensuring they were all too terrified to ask questions. His time at the Academy had taught him that laying groundwork was essential to a successful skive - or a successful secret meeting with a sworn enemy.

Everyone was expecting him to leave the ship, so he could depart in plain sight. It would all have been smooth sailing if he hadn’t run into Phasma, damn her, one of three people in the whole cursed galaxy he actually struggled to lie to. He should have just nodded and carried on walking, greeted her and moved on, but instead his heart rate had shot up to ‘Starkiller evacuation’ levels and some idiot animal part of his brain had decided the best way to maintain the ruse would be to stop for a light chat with her. He’d felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple as he stumbled through some stilted pleasantries. She’d been different since they picked her up, followed the miraculous distress beacon. Angrier. Her bared face, and that eye patch, were terrifying in a way the blankness of her old mask couldn’t have hoped to match. Hux had the distinct feeling that he’d only walked away and boarded his shuttle because she had allowed it, for reasons of her own. 

In the shuttle, safely airborne and stealth protocols activated, Hux slumped back in his seat, unbuttoned his collar and started drinking.

He had planned on flying manually, a rare pleasure and one that always made him feel focused and capable and, well, cool. He’d very much wanted to feel all of those things to meet with Dameron, but the morning so far had been really too much and it was suddenly more important that he feel a bit looser about the shoulders instead. Let autopilot take care of things.

The magnitude of what he was doing had hit him like a boot to the kidney as he prattled away at Phasma. Had she suspected? Hux took a long pull from his flask. If that were the case she might well have shot him. It would take some time for her to understand, to come to terms with his decision. For many in the Order - and, of course, for Ren. The brandy caught in his throat and he spluttered and coughed.

Ren was the biggest gamble in all of this, and Hux knew his odds weren’t good.

He was hazy on the timeline of Ren’s unceremonious departure from the loving arms of the New Republic, but he wondered if Dameron had known him. He would get the chance to ask very soon, he supposed. Dameron seemed like the type to be cheerfully indiscreet with tales of Ben Solo’s awkward adolescence. Hux got a little thrill of disobedience just thinking the Supreme Leader’s old name. Perhaps rebellion was catching.

Dameron was certainly a rebel, even against his rebel friends. It was both a positive and a negative as far as Hux’s plans went. He was contrary, rude, cocky, sarcastic - and annoyingly it all came together to make him rather charming. Hux would have to be careful of that. He could not deny it pleased him that Dameron had presented the opportunity, rather than one of his more staid comrades. Hux had been aware of his escapades for some time, of course, long enough to have pretended to disapprove of leering comments in locker rooms whenever the man appeared on Order news bulletins. He’d had a grudging respect for Dameron’s skill and ingenuity, considered him a worthy adversary. 

It made the petty insults and cheap shots all the more infuriating. They ought to be  _ beneath _ the legendary Commander, and it was really beneath Hux to get worked up about them.

_ Peaches, _ Hux thought scornfully, feeling his cheeks flush. Ridiculous.

Hux sighed and stretched, the stars streaking by outside the viewport. He should probably change into his civvies. And he’d had the foresight to pack another bottle to oil the wheels of negotiation.

He wasn't sure they’d need it. He and Dameron seemed to have built up a reasonable rapport. Hux had rather overshared one evening, maudlin and a little drunk after a dreadful day in which Supreme Leader Ren had called him up to the throne room on no less than seven occasions. He’d been embarrassed, had thought he’d blown it, until Poe responded with a quiet kindness rather than the expected mockery. Later conversations made it clear that the mother-son relationship was something of a tender point for both of them.

No, never mind a rapport, they’d … bonded. Hux felt almost giddy. He was going to meet infamous rebel scoundrel Poe Dameron in a seedy cantina. And he would bring him home to the First Order, a defector.

  
  


*

 

are you standing me up

 

_ No sorry I’m just preparing to land shouldn’t be much longer _

 

_ Sorry _

 

is everything ok??

 

you weren’t followed?

 

_ No! No, just trivial delays before take-off, nothing to worry about. _

 

_ Everything has proceeded according to plan. Almost everything. An estimated 99%. _

 

A-minus huh? that must smart.

 

nerd 

 

_ I swear I will let the galaxy burn. _

 

no, you won’t.

 

_ No, I won’t. _

 

_ Whyren’s Reserve _

 

what

 

_ On ice. That’s what I’m drinking. _

 

fascinating

 

_ Have one waiting for me.  _

 

ohhhh right

 

_ Started without me, have you? _

 

hey now this is a meeting that could shape the fate of the galaxy i am not getting wasted

 

i’m actually offended that you

 

how do i know you aren’t

 

in fact

 

no 

 

_ Good. Excellent. Glad to hear it. Of course. _

 

_ Fine. _

 

fine 

 

_ I’ll see you shortly. _

 

okey dokey

 

hey i ordered your fancy booze and it’s pretty nice

 

also you and your neo-imperialist war machine now owe me 100 credits holy shit

 

funny enough the bartender says the only other dude who ever orders this is a real cheap date

 

150 credits

 

hey is that you in the GIANT hat 

 

hate to break it to you but that is not inconspicuous

 

i’m at the far end of the bar jerk

 

_ I see you _

 

better order us a couple more

 


	3. Chapter 3

The suns had set on the little scrap of town, on the backwater planet in the dead-end system. The sky was a deep, darkening blue, and the moonbugs traced brief glowing patterns in it, buzzing and chirping as they went about their business. It stayed hot at night, enough water in the system yet for the soil to hold the heat and for spiky, grimly determined trees to trap it low down in the air. 

The cantina’s air conditioning units spluttered erratically, providing little relief. The main doors stood open, letting in air and sand and a trickle of travellers, and on the first and second floors rows of windows had vents opened as far as they would go. A couple of old-style sash windows were open, the edges of curtains drawn out by the warm breeze along with the soft murmur of voices.

At one window, on the far corner of the top floor, a man leaned out, his elbows resting on the sill. His arms and chest were bare, and the red of his hair caught the last remnants of the sun. Pale smoke from his cigarette drifted up into the night.

Hux was aware that he was still a little drunk, but considered himself in sufficient possession of his faculties to judge the success of the evening. Dameron, it turned out, had also had a few drinks to steady his nerves, but seemed quite committed about his defection to the Order.  _ Spilling secrets is part of this thing, right? _ he’d demanded at one point, leaning in close to whisper it into Hux’s ear, the long, hot line of his thigh pressed against Hux’s in the booth they’d repaired to for privacy. Hux had responded in the affirmative, thrilled by Dameron’s eagerness to pass on intelligence as much as by his proximity. 

_ Speaking of secrets,  _ Hux had continued, feeling incredibly bold, and Dameron had laughed and batted his lashes at him, retorting,  _ What do you want to know, peaches? _

Hux flushed just to think about it, even standing at the window in the room where they’d spent much of the evening together, Dameron still sprawled in the bed behind him. A great many of his suspicions - nay, hopes - about the Resistance’s golden boy had been proven gloriously correct. 

Perhaps some would say getting a room hadn’t been the most professional course of action, he mused, tapping the ash from his cigarette away into the night, but sometimes these things were necessary in war. Undercover agents used such tactics all the time. Just because it was pleasurable didn’t mean it wasn’t also highly strategic. Hux had simply used every method at his disposal to ensure he sealed the deal. 

Poe was stretched out and sweaty on the sagging cantina mattress, and he was thinking much the same thing as Hux. He’d never been afraid of using unconventional methods to get the job done, he told himself, and this was absolutely no different. Probably he could convince Hux to keep this part of the negotiations quiet back at base. It would look bad - for Hux, as though he had just been swayed by a pretty face and his repentance was shallow and selfish. It was really in Hux’s best interests to avoid mentioning that they’d gone to bed together. He’d see the sense in that. He’d easily accepted plenty of Poe’s other suggestions this evening, after all. 

Poe couldn’t help laughing out loud at the craziness of that, bringing his hands up to cover his face. Those dirty holos hadn’t known the  _ half _ of it.

Hux turned his head at the sound. He’d finished his cigarette and flicked away the butt, leaning back against the sill and raking his bright eyes over Poe. Say what you like about the Resistance, he thought, but their physical training programme must be … rigorous.

“Is something amusing?” he asked, a smile in his voice. He’d pulled on some shorts to smoke at the window, but they left little to the imagination and he was aware of it, the casual confidence quite different to the brittle arrogance of his public persona.

Poe pulled himself up onto his elbows. “All of this, really,” he said, and Hux noted with some satisfaction that his gaze strayed south as he spoke. “When you think about it. If you’d told us we’d be here, what, six months ago? We wouldn’t have believed it.” He stood and stretched, grinning when he saw Hux admiring the view. “There’s a lot I wouldn’t have believed,” he added, making his way over to the little washstand in the corner of the room. “Here I was thinking all you First Order boys were clueless and repressed.”

Hux snorted. He crouched down to rifle through the discarded clothing on the floor, seeking his trousers and their pockets. “Wait til we get back to my quarters on the Finalizer, Dameron,” he said, his body stirring again just to think of it. “I have a collection of enhancements that’ll show you just how wrong you were.”

“The Finalizer?” Poe said, not following. He ran the tap, waiting for the cool water from beneath the earth to make its way through the pipes. “Don’t tell me you’re homesick already. You had plenty of time to pack your bag of tricks before you ran away with me.”

Hux straightened, slowly and carefully, trousers in hand. A small crease formed between his brows.

“Did you want to go back and, like, blow it up or something? Get some closure?” Poe continued, splashing cold water onto his face and patting his cheeks. Hux didn’t respond. “Because you’ll be persona non grata around there once they work out you switched sides, pal, no way you could be sneaking around unnoticed planting explosives and picking up dildoes.” He twisted to look at Hux, who was standing very still, and shot him a smile. “Or whatever.”

Poe shut off the tap, and the room was suddenly very quiet.  _ Back to my quarters, on the Finalizer. _ He turned back to Hux, and they looked at each other, and water dripped from Poe’s fingers and his chin for what felt like an extremely long time before he said, “Fuck.”

Hux gathered the trousers into his chest defensively, as if his modesty could somehow still be preserved. “What have I done?” he whispered. 

Poe yanked the cantina’s threadbare towel from the side of the sink to cover his crotch. “You - you said you wanted to defect!”

“Me?!  _ You _ said  _ you _ wanted to defect!” 

“No I didn’t!”

“No!” Hux shouted, his eyes widening. “You didn’t! Fuck!  _ Fuck! _ ”

“What was all that shit about your mom! The crisis of leadership! Our - “ Poe gestured wildly around the room with his free hand. “Converging interests!”

“Well they’ve bloody well converged now, haven’t they?” Hux yelled. “Now you’ve taken advantage of me with your lies and your - “ he turned away from Poe and from the towel. “Was that file on her even real?” he asked, sounding thoroughly miserable. 

“Of course it was real!” Poe insisted. “I thought you wanted to come be with her! I thought you had a heart!”

“I thought you had one! I thought  _ we _ had - oh,  _ fuck _ .” Hux pressed his fist to his mouth and a strangled scream escaped him. 

“You can’t go back,” Poe said, running a hand back through his hair, his mind racing. “You can’t go back, you don’t want that, not really. You can’t _. _ ”

Hux was pulling on the trousers, hopping awkwardly on one foot then the other. “The Order is my  _ life _ , you idiot!” 

“It doesn’t have to be!”

Hux stood for a moment, trousers hanging open, his fists clenching at his sides, and Poe thought he saw despair in his eyes. Thought he saw hope. 

“Are you quite mad?” Hux asked him, eventually, coldly. He started fastening up the buttons. “Our deranged figurehead already has a particular loathing for you. What do you think he’ll do when he learns you tried to turn his most trusted officer?” 

“Who, Ben Solo?” Poe scoffed. It was pretty tough to look nonchalant naked, but he thought he pulled it off. “I know how to handle him.”

“I knew it,” Hux said triumphantly, hands on his hips. Poe had played right into his hands, given him the information. He wasn’t so bad at manipulation, after all. He could salvage something from this debacle. He could. It would all be fine. 

Poe rolled his eyes. “Oh, and I suppose you two never - “ 

“Certainly not!” Hux scowled, then he reddened, looking away uncomfortably. “Anyway he’s my superior officer now and it’d be inappropriate.” 

“Buddy, that’s too bad,” Poe cackled, watching Hux turn scarlet with some horrendous cocktail of envy and rage and shame. “Because let me tell you - “

“Please stop!”

Hux raised a palm and Poe relented. Quiet descended, and neither man had any idea how to break it.

Poe shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, making sure to keep the towel held close. He was really not at an advantage here. Unless…

Poe’s eyes darted to their belts, on the floor between them, blasters in holsters, and he moved before he could think too much about it and give it away. Hux was quicker than he expected though, and his shoulder knocked the wind out of Poe and brought them both down in a heap. Poe rolled with it and came out on top, trying to hold Hux down with his weight advantage. They scrambled for the weapons, pushing and grabbing at each other with one hand and reaching with the other, Hux hissing curses and bucking his hips to try to flip them. He managed to slide a thigh between Poe’s and Poe jerked away on instinct, acutely conscious of his nudity and vulnerability, tipping over in between Hux and the blasters.

Hux leapt across him, landing with his ribs digging into Poe’s belly, and got a hand on one of the belts. Poe grabbed at his waistband to hold him back but he was yanking the blaster closer, feet scrabbling for purchase, grunting with effort. Poe shot his free hand up to the patch of orange hair under Hux’s nearest arm, using one of the weaknesses the General had given away earlier that night, and Hux gasped in outrage.

“Bastard!” 

Hux squirmed, pulling away and falling onto his back, and Poe dived for the other blaster, crawling over Hux and grabbing it where it lay just over his head. Hux had kept a hold on the belt though, and his momentum had finally dragged the holster within reach.

Two blasters cocked, one at Hux’s forehead and one at Poe’s chest. 

Poe looked down at Hux, at his hard eyes and the sheen of sweat across his bare skin. He was gripping the blaster with both hands, and his arms already had the hint of a tremble. Poe had ended up astride him, thighs around his waist, and he could tell the familiarity of the position wasn’t lost on him.

“I can do this all night, peaches,” Poe growled, pressing the muzzle of the blaster, letting more of his weight sink down onto Hux’s crotch.

“Where have I heard that before,” Hux sneered, rocking his hips up, goading.

“What if your precious Supreme Leader could see you now, huh?”

Hux let go the blaster with one hand, dropping the other to grip Poe’s thigh, press him down. “What if he could?”

“You’d like that, would you?”

“We could have done this on his throne,” Hux said, through gritted teeth.

“We still could,” Poe replied, torn between pleading and anger. 

Hux planted his feet on the floor, bending his knees and tipping Poe forward, closer, his blaster sliding up under Poe’s chin. Poe braced himself on Hux’s shoulder, pressing back against him.

“We could have ruled the galaxy,” Hux panted. His finger had slipped from the trigger and Poe grabbed his wrist, slamming it onto the floor and watching the blaster skitter away from his hand.

“Shut up,” he said, thumbing his own safety on and pinning Hux’s other wrist. “Shut up.”

  
  


*

  
  


The first of the suns broke the horizon, washing the little settlement in pale gold light. 

In the room in the cantina, on the top floor, at the end of the hall, Poe Dameron, hero of the Resistance, lay across the bottom of the bed, his head hanging off the side, chest heaving, his face bright red and shiny with sweat. 

“Soon as I get my breath back I am taking you in, you bastard,” he wheezed.

Armitage Hux, General of the First Order, gave a muffled hiccup in response, his face buried in the pillow. “You’re in my custody,” he mumbled. “Your rebel friends can’t help you now.”

“I know you don’t mean that, peaches,” Poe groaned, squeezing his eyes closed. 

Hux rolled over, keeping the pillow pressed to his face. 

“I hate you,” he said.

Poe covered his face with his hands.  “I know.”


End file.
